


Different Circumstances

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Uther is an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Merlin dies (and Arthur, and everyone else), Arthur thinks about how much better this entire situation would have been under different circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> _And if you cry,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I'll hold your head up high_
> 
>  
> 
> _I'll be there by your side_
> 
>  
> 
> _I will be your guardian angel_
> 
>  
> 
> -Lovex

This had simply not been Arthur Pendragon's week.

It started off on Sunday when he went looking for his wife. His wife, Guinevere. To whom he'd now been married ten years. His wife, Guinevere, who did not show up at mass that morning, although she'd promised Arthur she was on her way and only delaying because her dress was taking her so long to lace up. And yet as he sneaked out of the chapel (flashing a desperate "please cover for me" look at Merlin, who simply nodded, smirking, as he so often did) he tried to bark down the feeling that Guinevere could possibly be lying to him.

He'd watched his wife dress before, no matter how many times she told him that this was simply inappropriate behavior and not chivalric in the least. Not one of these times did it ever take her more than an hour and a half, much less the nearly three hours she'd been gone. It'd be a sin to think Guinevere could be lying about her whereabouts, but the salt to his wound would be the question "If not in our chambers, where could she possibly and what could she possibly be doing?" So, despite the fact that he most greatly did not want to think of his wife being lost in girlish vanity or simply lying to get out of the overly long and boring mass, but so long as she was in their chambers, he may be able to live with the lie.

He pushed open their doors to find the bed made, the wardrobe closed and the room entirely empty. "Damnit," he cursed to no one in particular.

Arthur ignored the still-open boudoir doors, turning in anxiety on his heel and half-running through the corridors of the Castle, randomly swinging open doors and finding his wife in none of these rooms. He even checked the dungeons but gave up with a sigh upon finding the town drunk in a cell, asleep, the guard on duty in a similar way. Arthur finally decided that a thorough search of the woods was in order, and ordered that the horses be prepared to ride immediately after mass.

When mass ended, Arthur found his knights nearly pushing one another to the ground in their excitement to leave the castle. It had grown dull and boring in Camelot these past few weeks, and Arthur did not blame them for their eagerness at the thought of action, no matter how little of it there may be.

Arthur's eyes scanned the crowd leaving the chapel doors but stuck to the mass of black hair that was Merlin, his servant and best friend. Not that he'd ever admit the latter part to the man himself (or that it needed saying to begin with). Merlin trotted up beside Arthur's horse and asked him, "What on Earth would Guinevere be doing in the woods?"

The look on Merlin's face was entirely passive, but the question itself thrust Arthur into a rather horrendous flashback.

About eleven years ago, he'd been sitting in his quarters drawing up contracts and the like when a knight timidly knocked on the door. "Come in," Arthur ordered. The knight, face a brilliant shade of red, squeaked something that Arthur could not comprehend and ran out of the door again, leaving the king rather bemused and Merlin rather amused.

"What on Earth was that all about?" Arthur asked him. Merlin shook his head.

"It would seem that the people are in want of a queen, my Lord."

Arthur sneered and shook his head in disgust. "I told you, don't call me that." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, looking out of the windows, finger tapping mindlessly on the desk. Merlin looked at him from where he stood, making the bed, fighting off the urge to walk over to him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Do you think they're right, Merlin?" Arthur did not turn to face him. "Should I get married."

Marriage was a tender subject that Merlin tended to skirt around himself. Love in general was something he'd tried to avoid ever since the incident with Nimueh and, before that, the incident with Morgan le Fay. He paused to think about it. "I really don't have a good track record with this sort of thing, so I suppose I'm not the best person to ask." About women, he thought, rather slyly. Merlin was not exactly chivalric and, therefore, the way he'd handled his few relationships with women had not gone over so well. His relationships with men were all rather clandestine – not so much because he was embarrassed by them than because having that sort of a discussion with Arthur would have been more trouble than it was worth. Especially when the subject at hand mattered so little to Merlin himself. After all, his point in life, his destiny, his fate, his any-other-fancy-word that meant his life was not really his to direct, was to protect Arthur and to study magic; to somehow find a way to both bring magic back to being legal in Camelot and to unite the lands of Albion. It was rather hard work on its own.

Arthur didn't like this answer. He didn't care what Merlin's experiences had been like and he didn't care to find another person to ask. He wanted Merlin's opinion and no one else's. "Just answer the damned question, Merlin. Do you think I should get married?"

Merlin shifted uncomfortably, having a hard time looking at Arthur without simply staring at him, and in the end chose the safety of fretting with the pillows instead of looking at Arthur in case his emotions betrayed him. "Is there anyone whom you favor?"

Arthur let out an odd spluttered noise and blushed sheepishly when Merlin looked at him. It took him a few minutes of slow breathing before answering back softly, "Guinevere."

The result of this one name was a week-long argument that set many peoples' teeth on edge. Arthur had no idea what Guinevere had done to so insult Merlin, but it must have been something really vile for Merlin, of all people, to refer to her as "a loathsome whore". Arthur was now at a crossroads. He wanted to do whatever would make his people happy, but he could not marry someone whom his best friend did not approve of. Yet there was just something about Guinevere that just attracted Arthur to her…

The feud ended when Arthur cornered Merlin in the library, demanding to know why he disapproved so much of Guinevere. Merlin avoided the answer and caved in, saying, "If she is whom you would like to marry, then I have no quarrel with her. Do as you wish, sire." Arthur was not at all happy with this answer. Merlin ever only called him "sire" when he was angry with him, but Merlin refused to go into detail about anything. Arthur eventually gave up on his prodding and just married Guinevere.

The events thereafter replayed themselves for Arthur as he and his men searched the woods, eventually stopping at the sound of moaning.

Arthur jumped off of his horse, holding out a hand to all of his men. As per usual, the knights obeyed his order, and Merlin did not, walking next to Arthur and not even flinching when his sword was drawn.

The two walked into a well-lit clearing to see Lancelot, naked, lying face down. Arthur sighed in relief; no faeries, no magic, just Lancelot. That was, until he surveyed the whole scene and realized upon whom Lancelot was laying: Arthur's own wife, Guinevere. She did not seem embarrassed or ashamed, not even has Arthur, in a fit of rage, ran his sword through Lancelot and told Guinevere that her return to Camelot would be her death.

Arthur moped around the castle for two full days, not speaking to or seeing anyone and barely eating or sleeping. He fully expected Merlin to come in and tell him, half proudly, "I told you so," but he never did. If anything, Merlin seemed more upset and depressed than usual.

On Wednesday, Merlin opened the doors to Arthur's chambers rather forcefully, throwing open the curtains and demanding "Come on, up, we're going hunting."

Arthur turned around, delirious, and eyeing Merlin with abject suspicion. "Who are you," he questioned, "and what have you done with my Merlin?"

Merlin blushed. "Knock it off, Arthur; we're going hunting."

Arthur obliged and got dressed on his own, batting away Merlin's hands as he tried, in a rush, to help. "You hate hunting," Arthur informed him.

"What I like or dislike does not matter. You've been moping around for two days now, and this is my attempt at cheering you up. I don't care if you like it or not, you're my friend and I'm here to bother you." Arthur blinked at him, wondering where this sudden empowerment had come from, and trying to decide if he liked it or not. Under Arthur's scrutiny, Merlin blushed even more. "Come on, let's get going."

X – x – X

Arthur tried to demand that none of the knights accompany he and Merlin on their hunting expedition, but that demand went over about as well as he thought it might. Instead, both parties settled for no one speaking to King Arthur, apart from Merlin, about which there was now a lot of muttered rumoring. Not that Arthur cared anymore.

Arthur and Merlin walked at a good pace away from everyone else and in silence. Merlin was trying to figure out something useful to say – something to make Arthur feel better, but no words came. He figured that maybe silence was his gift to Arthur, as he did usually comment that Merlin talked too much. However true that sentiment may be, Arthur actually missed the servant's mindless chatter and wished he would go on about something. Arthur actually tried to start up a conversation himself, but could not think about any subject matter on which they could or should speak.

He supposed it was because he was so wrapped up on this one insignificant little worry that he did not hear the attack coming sooner.

Arthur was nearly hit in the head by an arrow, and might actually have been, had Sir Leon not yelled at the last minute "King Arthur, look about you!" Arthur jumped off of his horse and tackled Merlin to the ground, looking around their clearing as the screams and yells of battles started. He couldn't say he was upset by the sudden acts of violence – it would feel good to get his anger out in this way – but he wished that Merlin were not around for all of this, as Merlin was rather clumsy and incredibly horrible with a sword, leaving him totally defenseless and vulnerable. He'd almost been killed several times during an attack – a fact Arthur was most displeased with.

Arthur jerked Merlin up by the arm and the two ran for a great distance. Normally Arthur would be trying to convince himself that he was, by no means, running away from conflict; but as he'd just lost his wife and most loyal knight he had no intentions of losing his best friend in the same week – or ever, if he could help it.

He propped Merlin up against a tree despite the fact that Merlin was not actually injured (yet, he told himself) and told him "Stay put," although he knew there was no way Merlin was actually going to obey that order. He knew this ahead of time, and he also knew that there were plenty of ways to force Merlin into staying put; and, deep down, he knew that he didn't want that.

Merlin followed behind him, making sure to keep a short distance in case it came down to desperate measures. When they reached the space they'd just run from – Arthur with his sword out, Merlin's words at the ready – it was entirely clear. Arthur didn't put his sword down, though, and advance, shouting to the world "Show yourself!", but no reply came. Arthur slowly sheathed his sword and turned to face Merlin, who had a very confused look on his face.

"Something's not right here…" Merlin's head jerked up, eyes looking to the cliffs around them. Arthur did the same, and began to mutter curses under his breath at rapid fire. They were surrounded by more than a hundred crossbows, all pointed at them. The pair walked backwards, until they were back-to-back with one another.

Arthur turned his head slightly and whispered to Merlin, "Run."

He felt Merlin shake his head. "No. Not without you."

Arthur felt his heart jump into his throat. He didn't want his friend dying on his account, but at the same time, he was thankful to not have to die alone.

Arthur's hand reached for and found Merlin's, his fingers sliding through the crevices separating the fingers of his friend. He squeezed Merlin's hand tightly. "You know, Merlin, you are – were – the only true friend I ever had. I'm sorry for being such a prat to you all those times –"

"Stop saying that. Stop talking – don't start talking like this-"

"No, Merlin, I have to," Arthur's weight shifted to his left foot as he surveyed the scene. It was hopeless, there was no way of getting out of this sort of situation. "We're going to die here, right now, and I'm not leaving without saying a proper goodbye."

"We're not going to die." Merlin jerked his hand out of Arthur's and threw his hands in the sky, and began shouting in a loud voice that Arthur painfully recognized as being the language of the old religion. Arthur closed his eyes, hoping and praying to whomever was up there and listening that this was not happening right now – because he wasn't sure how he could possibly deal with the consequences of all of this, or how he could possibly deal with knowing the person he'd relied upon and trusted for his entire adult life had been lying to him.

But when he opened his eyes, Arthur saw all of the soldiers that had been surrounding the pair disintegrating. When the last of the dust that used to be flesh and bones settled, Arthur turned to face Merlin. Arthur wanted to act nonchalant about the whole thing, but could not work the look of utter shock and – what was that, heartbrokenness? – off of his face. Merlin had turned around to face him as well, tears falling down his face. Arthur wasn't sure anymore what part of his life was more upsetting at the moment, as Merlin whispered "I'm sorry," and began running.

It took Arthur a few moments to finally start running after Merlin, yelling for him to wait, for him to stop, but Merlin never had and never would obey his orders. As he saw Merlin's back progressing in becoming farther and farther away from his person, Arthur swore at himself and cast off his chainmail and too-heavy boots, and ran to catch up. When he was close enough for Merlin to hear him again, Arthur shouted "Merlin of Ealdor, stop running right this instant. You have been my friend all these years and my servant longer than I care to remember. I'd like an explanation, and at the very least, you owe me that." Merlin stopped moving at the last sentence and turned around slowly, still crying.

"How can I possibly explain all of this? I was born like this, I've been able to do magic since before I could even speak or walk. It's part of my entire life, it's the only thing that I have an it's who I am," at this, Merlin began to splutter, going from anxious to furious and pointing a finger accusingly at Arthur. "I've saved your life more than I can count, and I did it with magic! I tried to save your father, I've tried to save Camelot, and I have always saved you – done anything for you, really, because that's what my destiny is, to protect you. Do you have any idea how incredibly hard it is to protect you without magic? You're a magnet for trouble –"

"Stop blubbering, Merlin, and get over here." Arthur demanded. Merlin faltered, taking a step closer before taking a step back. Symbolic of our actual relationship, Arthur thought. "Come here," he begged, voice softer than usual. "I'm not going to hurt you – Jesu Christi, if I were going to do that, I'd have done it much earlier."

Merlin walked down the slight slope to where Arthur stood, face still unsure. "But I've…betrayed you?"

Arthur shook his head. "Now that I think about it…I understand. And I don't know how I didn't see it before, because you're really not all that good at hiding things." Arthur smiled, attempting to show Merlin that he wasn't really mad. "You never betrayed me. If you did, if you'd really wanted to, there were plenty of times when you could. But you haven't. And I don't think you ever will." Arthur put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, before bringing both of his hands up to Merlin's face. "Just…don't hide anything else from me, do you promise?"

Merlin's mouth opened to agree, before it closed and his eyes rolled up, his face contorting in pain.

"Merlin?" Arthur shouted, completely forgetting that Merlin was perfectly capable of hearing him. Arthur sat on the ground as Merlin's body began to slump, Merlin's head finally coming to rest in Arthur's lap. "Oh, God – no!"

Arthur completely lost it at the sight of a knife in his friends back. He began crying when he felt for a pulse, even ripping apart Merlin's shirt and finding that he could neither feel nor hear its beating. Arthur began to scream swear words he didn't even know existed when he realized that the light had gone from his friend's eyes, and Merlin was dead.

X – x – X

This time, Arthur truly meant it when he demanded to his knights that he not be disturbed. He threw Sir Leon in the stocks for knocking on his door, and Sir Elyan in the cells for making too much of a noise in the hall. He'd screamed at three chamber maids, making every single one of them cry. Every manservant who'd tried to come in and help Arthur with his daily needs was smacked into the floor and kicked out into the hallway, the resounding hiss being "You are not Merlin."

On the day following Merlin's death, Arthur did nothing but harass Gaius into trying to find a way to wake Merlin up. Gaius just looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry, sire, but I can't."

"I thought you used to do sorcery," Arthur said impatiently, hands running through his hair.

"I used to, but…" Gaius tried to find the right words to explain. "I wasn't born with magic, like Merlin was. Very few people are – Morgana, for example, and Nimueh. But not me. I do not have the power to raise the dead."

Arthur wasn't exactly satisfied with this answer and took out his anger by spending hours in his chambers, screaming at nobody and everybody, at nothing and everything. He'd even ordered a knight who attempted to move Merlin's body from its current resting place to be beheaded.

As he sat on the cold, hard floor where the bodies of noblemen – "Not traitorous sorcerers, like Merlin", Arthur's uncle Agravaine had reminded Arthur, only to be stabbed through with a sword by Arthur himself for ever saying such things" – rested, Arthur said to no one in particular (although really, Merlin was the one for whom the message was meant):

"I can't believe you left me." Arthur laughed. "I know, you didn't do that on purpose, it wasn't your choice…but it wasn't your time, either. I just can't believe you're not here anymore…" Arthur shifted a bit, his eyes going hazy, trying to block every memory of their time together out of his mind. "I've always needed you, always relied on you…and now, I don't know what I'll do without you." Arthur frowned. Softly, so that passers-by could not hear, he voiced out loud things that he normally didn't allow himself to even think about. "I'd always thought that, were things different, we would just be…us. There would be no Guinevere. I didn't need her. All of the things a Queen is meant to do, you did…" Arthur couldn't bear to think the last few thoughts aloud. He'd needed Guinevere because he'd needed an heir, because women were chivalric and this was the age of chivalry – all of these things just felt like feeble excuses now, said by someone too afraid to really change things.

Camelot was invaded on the third day following Merlin's death. Arthur went through a series of revelations – that Morgana, Morgan le Fay, whoever she was today, had disguised herself as Guinevere and slept with him. That they had a son, called Mordred, who was also born with magic. And, as he lay on the wet grass, dying, that Mordred had killed him, and that all of this was fated. And Arthur still couldn't be bothered to care, because all he could think at this moment was that now, after what felt like years, he was going to see Merlin again.


End file.
